Harry Potter and the Vast Conspiracy
by Thesebooksarecrap
Summary: What if Ron was Uncle Vernon? Is Mark Evans the Wizarding Messiah? Will Harry's toenail clipping play an important part in the years to come? Find out here!
1. The Boy Who Surfed

Harry Potter and the Vast-Conspiracy Movement  
  
Chapter 1: Harry Potter woke up at the highly-significant hour of 5:26 AM. His scar was hurting again. It never seemed to hurt at a convenient time, like when John Kerry was giving a speech or the French were smelling up the place during the Triwizard Tournament. Those Beauxbatons girls might be hot, but Harry couldn't force himself to succumb to their personal hygiene habits. Once during the Third Task of the Triwizard tournament, Harry had heard Fleur scream when a boggart had turned into a can of shaving cream. "No pleez," Fleur had pleaded, "Do no shave zee armpeets…pleez." That she had nests of hair tucked away under her supple arms disgusting Harry so much that he used the Shaving-Spell on her right there. Fleur was a broken woman until she had met his best friends older brother Bill (who is going to die, but we'll get to that later) and he didn't shave either so they decided to make sex and babies. But this isn't the time to discuss that.   
  
Anyway, as Harry went to apply some Aloe Vera to his throbbing forehead, he noticed that Uncle Vernon was snoring. He knew immediately that this was a very important point in his life, and he realized that Ron snored too. Uncle Vernon and Ron must be the same person, thought Harry. So Harry went into his aunt and uncle's bedroom and jumped on the bed. "Get up, Ron! How come you never told me it was you?" And then Harry was severely beaten. Seven times. Harry limped back to his room and packed his things. He couldn't understand why Uncle VernRon had beaten him. They were best friends. This horrible, horrible event could mean only one thing.   
  
Harry Potter ran into his cousin's room and turned on his computer. He logged on to the internet, and typed in "mugglenet.com" and began rapidly searching the guestlist for "squidward" Ah-ha! There she was, saying how sure she was that Snape and the Ice Cream Lady at the Zoo on page 26 of the Socerer's Stone would be a couple in years to come. But No! there were Squidwards 1-893 signed on as well. Which one was the Oracle? Which one knew his destiny?   
  
But before he could private message them all, he felt something cold poking into the back of his neck. (Slash people, get your heads out of the gutter! Now isn't the time for that!)   
  
"Get up, Senor." This mysterious person talked with a heavy Spanish accent.   
  
"Who are you?"   
  
"Now isn't the time for Questiones, Senor."   
  
Harry turned around. There was a humongous fat blonde 16 year old pointing a wand at Harry. He was wearing a black mask like Zorro's.   
  
"Dudley?"  
  
"No, I am Wizard Dudley the Bandit Ranger. I've been going to Hogwarts for the last five years under an invisibility cloak that I stole from MoM."  
  
"Aunt Petunia has a wizarding cloak."  
  
"No, you fool…I was a-referring to dah Ministry de Magica."   
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It's an acronym."   
  
"Oh like the time SevS and McG disprtd dn to HW to find the HBP near the PoA but not until the PoS stole the SS/PS from the CoS when the OotP took the GoF from HG/RW/DM/HP?"  
  
But before he could finish his story Dudley turned into a dolphin.   
  
"What do I do now, squidward?" he typed in the computer. But it was of no use. The flailing dolphin had pulled the power cord out of the wall, disconnecting him the world wide web.   
  
"Dam[censored]!"  
  
Harry wondered what he could do. He decided to send an owl to the inventor of the internet:  
  
Dear Mr. Gore:  
  
But then Harry realized that Mr. Gore was too busy re-counting the votes in Florida to answer his owl! What could he do?  
  
He packed his trunk and let Hedwig out of her cage and told her to fly to Hogwarts. He opened the door and found a couple of Death Eaters on his lawn, playing with sparklers.   
  
"Hey 'Arry!"   
  
"Sup, man?"   
  
"Why are you guys here? Begone servants of Darkness!"   
  
"Uh…we're the American characters JKR put into the book for no reason. Hello?!"   
  
"Where have you been, fool?"   
  
"But why…why sparklers?"  
  
"Because everything else is illegal inside the city limits. You've got to be nice and shit. Cuz, it scares peoples dogs and cats, and causes fires and third degree burns."  
  
"So they banned fireworks? All you can have is sparklers?"   
  
"Harry…we need to tell you something."  
  
"It's very important."  
  
"What is it, then?"  
  
They exchanged meaningful glances. "Harry," said the Death Eater named Bellmont, "have a Starbucks."  
  
"A …what?"  
  
"OMG! Harry, take this," said the other Death Eater, whose name was DeLaRaujauntekanye, "it's a Tall Java Chip Frappuchino."  
  
"Do you have a small?"  
  
The Death Eaters laughed, "Um…that IS a small, hun."  
  
"You said it was a tall--"  
  
"Whatever. Harry---you're mother was…"  
  
"A Death Eater? I thought it might be true ever since Squidward said so on a chat room."  
  
"Uh--not a Death Eater, Harry. You're mother was a crack-whore."  
  
"Wait that's an acronym isn't it…cork-her-caw."  
  
"No but this sentence is a highly significant acronym: Bubbles are yummy and sour?  
  
"Let's see…Dan bless member yuyu…"  
  
And then the Death Eaters ran across the street to Piers Polkiss's house.   
  
"Curious," thought Harry aloud.   
  
He opened the door to the Polkiss house and stared inside to find the American Death Eaters sitting on his sofa, drinking a Red Bull and watching Celebrity Justice. He raised his wand. "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" he cried, and one of the Death Eaters snapped together like a yoga teacher. But before Harry could get the other one, he was hit across the head with a letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office and knocked the floor unconscious. 


	2. The Giver of the Keys

Harry Potter and the Vast Conspiracy: Chapter 2  
  
Harry woke up to find Mrs. Figg, his batty cat-loving neighbor standing over him, holding a random shrunken head that was speaking in a Jamaican accent.  
  
"yah-man, de cats got de yanks."  
  
"Eh..what?"  
  
But then Harry turned and saw a cat gnawing on the severed heads of the American Death Eaters.  
  
Mrs. Figg smiled at him. "That's Jesus, gnawing on the left, and that's Gandhi on the right."  
  
"But Mrs. Figg...they knew my mom..."  
  
"Of course they did...she probably slept with them, she was a crack-whore."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Yes. And your Dad was her pimp."  
  
"Noooo!"  
  
And Harry ran out the door, waving his wand, when he met Dudley the Zorro- Wizard in the street, beating up...Mark Evans.  
  
"Please help...sir...please...can't breathe."  
  
"Wait...are you related to me?"  
  
"What?...please help...me..." And Mark Evans was coughing up blood.  
  
"My mom's last name was Evans, you know."  
  
"So? The lady that lives in that house's name is Evans...and I'm not related to her. It's the 8th most common name in Britain. Please....stop him..."  
  
Harry smelt tequila. "Wizard-Dudley-Zorro? Have you been drinking?"  
  
"Yes. Now, please, I'm trying to break a piñata, here, Harry."  
  
"Oh, I see."  
  
"NOOO..."cried Mark Evans, "Please help me! I'm important to your life...I was on page 13...once...please..."  
  
But Harry was running to the house where the Evans family lived. He was knocked on the door. Any minute his mom's relative would be inviting him in to tell Lily stories.  
  
About thirty-minutes of knocking later, a blind Russian answered the door.  
  
"Borshlavnic! Dopterdblagenschnip avtarmarclod."  
  
"I'm your relative...tell me about my mom...you know, the red-haired Crack- whore!"  
  
"Crack-whore?" the blind Russian said. "I from Krakow!"  
  
"No, Uncle Borshlak, Crack-whore." And Harry hugged his new Uncle Evans.  
  
Borshlak Evans reached for his cane and hit Harry repeatedly with it, while Mark Evans was moaning in the background.  
  
A skinny woman came to the door. "Hello..and who are you?"  
  
"I'm your relative...Harry Evans Potter...Lily the Crack-Whore's son."  
  
"Krakow," said Borshlak Evans.  
  
"I'm afraid you're wrong" said the skinny woman, "Our full name is Evanshostovickstojakovnowskyvichjaniskovach."  
  
"Krakow," said Borshlak Evans. And he slammed the door.  
  
So Harry sat crying on a rock, but it looked very fake and there were no tears and Mark Evans and Dudley stopped fighting so they could feel embarrassed for Daniel—I mean Harry's--terrible attempt at pretending to cry.  
  
Just then Jesus and Gandhi (the cats) came and dragged Harry and Mark Evans to London. And once they got there, Jesus and Mark went one direction and Gandhi took Harry to the Leaky Cauldron, before getting hit by the Knight Bus. "Damnit, Mahn," said the Jamaican head, before the bus sped off. Then Cho Chang ate the dead cat. "mmm...remind me of my parent's Asian restaurant in Chinatown..." And then Cho's parents came and picked her up. They drove off, going 70 miles per hour over a speed bump with their turn signal on. Those darn Asian wizards, thought Harry.  
  
Harry went into the Leaky Cauldron and found that Tom wasn't an old man like he was in Harry's first year, or a creepy hunchback like he was in Harry's third year. Now he was a scary-looking woman with breast-implants and a moustache.  
  
Cornelius Fudge was also at the bar.  
  
"Harry, I just wanted you to know, I'm sorry about calling you a liar...and crazy. Not really, though. I got fired on Tuesday."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I screwed an intern."  
  
"That's all...man, you can get away with that in the States."  
  
"Well, Harry...that's where I'm going next. The good old U.S. of A. There, I can drown a woman in my car, and get elected into the government. I can sleep with fat intern, and no one will care. I can even marry a man." Fudge glanced shiftily around. "Tom, want to come to America with me?"  
  
"Sure, hun." Said Tom, "Here, Scar-face. You can have the Leaky Cauldron."  
  
"I don't want it, though."  
  
"Oh well, just give it to him."  
  
So Harry gave it to him, and stepped through the glorious portal into Diagon Alley, which really sounds very similar to Knockturn Alley, so you'd better pronounce it right when you use Flue Powder. 


End file.
